


Tauntaun's Heart Confessional

by TinCanTelephone



Series: From Tumblr, With <3 [11]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drinking, Drunkenness, F/M, Gratuitous Swearing, Hoth, Jealousy, Pining, Some Humor, hangovers, like a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/TinCanTelephone
Summary: Hoth is always fucking cold, and the warmest place on base is the makeshift speakeasy,The Tauntaun's Heart. It has all Cassian's least favorite things– crowds, loud music, and drunk soldiers– but he'll suffer through a lot for a working space heater.Of course, eventually, one night gets just alittleout of hand.





	Tauntaun's Heart Confessional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [for_centuries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_centuries/gifts).



> For @carr-crashh-heartss's prompt on tumblr: "I can't keep kissing strangers and pretending they're you."
> 
>  
> 
> I didn't use the line exactly, but I'm pretty sure I got the gist! 
> 
> Also, shoutout to @kotaface for OT references ;)

If it was up to him, Cassian wouldn’t ever frequent  _The Tauntaun’s Heart_. It was a waste of time and resources and against at least six Alliance regulations but so far none of Command had bothered to shut it down. When asked, the Princess said it was because “it’s good for morale,” but Cassian suspected she knew that if she tried, she’d have a mutiny on her hands. 

At some point, the makeshift club and its regulars had given up all pretense of subtlety and  _everyone_ – even sentients Cassian deemed reasonably sensible– seemed to know about it and stopped by at least once a standard week. 

_Although they didn’t have to_ name _it_ , he thought sullenly, standing against the wall near one of the jury-rigged space heaters. They were units originally deemed too damaged or too dangerous to be worth repairing, but repaired anyway by some devoted soldier. Along with the crush of bodies that tended to populate the makeshift dance floor, the room was often by far the warmest on Echo Base. This meant it was still mildly chilly around the edges, but better than the crushing cold that seemed to permeate most of the base. 

If there was anything Cassian couldn’t handle, he was beginning to think it was the extreme cold. Not that he’d let it show, of course, but the constant vacuum of the chill seemed to suck the life out of him. Despite being a morning person for as long as he could remember, every morning on Hoth seemed to be another struggle to pull himself out of bed. 

He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. The room even  _smelled_  like tauntaun– another reason to hate this Force-forsaken planet. Jyn, of course, loved the damn things. She had her favorite that she called Taunty and quickly proved herself a skilled rider. The first time she went on patrol, he volunteered to go with her and returned wheezing with hives breaking out on his hands where he’d touched his tauntaun's fur. 

Jyn had to practically drag him to the medbay and that night, sleeping off an adrenaline shot and a truly massive dose of antihistamines, he decided Hoth was simply against him in general. There was no other explanation. Now, Jyn went on patrols with another soldier, some blue-eyed, square-jawed ensign called  _Tivioll Arden_. He was a perfectly competent soldier (Cassian checked), not someone who would drag her down or put her in danger, but still. 

Apparently he also liked to have a glass or three to blow off steam, because Cassian could see him in the crowd tonight, moving his hips to the thump of the music, a plastene cup of liquor in one hand.  _Nerfherder_.

Cassian tried to keep the glare from his face as he watched Bodhi extract himself from the mosh pit, face flushed and sweat staining his shirt. He joined Cassian as he caught his breath and fanned himself. 

“Why the long face?” he said– shouted, although Cassian could barely hear him. 

“It’s nothing,” Cassian said. 

Bodhi rolled his eyes and nudged his arm. “Sure you don’t want something to drink?”

Bodhi’s breath reeked and Cassian grimaced. “I’m good, thanks.” He went back to staring at the crowd. Arden was still in view, dancing with someone else. Cassian could only see her back from where he stood but every now and then he caught a flash of green at her neck– Jyn! 

They turned three-quarters and he knew it was her. She didn’t even look that drunk! But there she was, dancing with her partner on patrol– her muscled, carefree partner whose face was getting closer to her face…

“Hey!”

He jumped and felt Bodhi poke his side, sharp fingers even through five layers of clothes and jackets. He blinked and tore his eyes away.

“Jealousy’s not a good look on you.”

“What?”

Bodhi shoved a plastene cup into his hand. “Drink this. I shouldn’t finish it.”

In a fit of irritation, Cassian took the cup and threw back its contents, trying to focus on the warmth of the burn. 

Bodhi whooped and handed him another. “To fun!”

Why the hells not? Cassian raised the second cup. "To fun!"

 

Several (too many) cups later, Cassian was suddenly (worryingly) too warm and stumbling into the hallway, leaning heavily on an x-wing pilot. Her name was Valery and she was really pretty. Not the  _prettiest_  he’d ever seen but still… she was short– maybe half a head shorter than him– and slim, wearing a dark brown vest and worn boots. 

She giggled and mouthed at his collarbone as they found their balance in the corridor. Her jacket was half-on and half-off, long brown hair cascading over the hood. Sometimes, when he blinked and his vision went a bit out-of-focus, he thought it was much shorter and her face a little wider and her eyes a little lighter…

He shook his head and focused on the rush of pleasure as her lips moved up his neck. He gasped when they hit the ridge of his jaw below his ear and turned to capture her mouth on instinct. She tasted like plastene and the alcohol they’d been drinking– he suspected he did, too– but it wasn’t too bad. 

He dragged it out until she pulled away and began tugging on the fur collar of his parka.

“C’mon,  _Captain_.” She drew out his rank so it sounded indecent but he wasn’t angry. “Don’t you want to go… somewhere  _else_?”

Cassian tried to force his mind to catch up as a million questions hit him at once– what was happening now? Was it good? Did he want this? He wasn’t sure, and conflicting visions flickered before him. The  _feeling_  of Valery– her lips, her hands– was wonderful, unbelievable, it had been so long… but whenever he opened his eyes it was never her face he saw first, through the haze of alcohol. 

He was pretty sure that was wrong. Wasn’t it?

“Captain?” Valery whispered in his ear before nibbling his earlobe. 

_Kriff_. “I, um…”

“Yes?” 

_Shit_ , the whispering again… and her lips were on his neck and she was _sucking_ and there was going to be a _mark_ – “Uh, wai–” He groaned. “ _Jyn_.”

Valery’s mouth tore off his throat and her hands shoved against his shoulders. “What did you say?” 

Cassian blinked and tried to force his head to clear. What  _did_  he say? Just her na– Oh  _fuck_. “I-I’m sorry.” It was horrifyingly insufficient but his brain was far too muddled to find anything else. “I was–”

“Spare me,” she snapped. She pulled her jacket back on and stalked away down the corridor. The cold wind at as she left felt like a slap in the face that left him dizzy and stumbling backwards.

– into something soft. 

“Oof.” 

He whirled around and it was Valery– no, this time it was Jyn. The real Jyn and oh fark, how much did she see…

But then he blinked and she was gone, replaced with Bodhi, whose hands went to his shoulders as he said, “C’mon, Cassian. Let’s get you to bed.”

Cassian swayed. Bed… bed sounded like a great idea…

 

* * *

 

_Fuck_. 

Was he dead? 

Maybe. Distinct possibility. 

He certainly wasn’t  _alive_. Or, he hoped he wasn’t. Because if he was that would mean… 

Cassian groaned and pried his sticky eyelids open, then squeezed them shut again as the dim light of his room slammed into his brain.  _Fuck_. He swallowed against the rising nausea and nearly gagged at the taste of his mouth. 

What was  _in_  that drink last night? 

Nope, wrong line of thought. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the queasiness, but after a few minutes accepted his fate and wobbled to the ’fresher to throw up. 

He stayed there for a while, cheek pressed against the durasteel wall as the sweat cooled off his forehead. Soon he was shivering but the room was still spinning slowly around him and he was so tired…

 

Someone was hitting him in the head. 

No, someone was hitting him in his  _brain_. Somehow, they had gotten under his skull without him noticing and were currently taking a hammer to his frontal lobe. 

He waited and hoped it would go away soon, but it only got more intense– louder and faster– until he woke with a moan and peeled his numb cheek from the ’fresher wall. The door. Someone was at the door

He whined in pain and pressed a hand to his face, trying to rub the blood back into it.  _Kriff_ , he was still so dizzy he didn’t know if he could get to the door without crawling. Maybe it was better not to answer. Pretend he wasn’t here. 

“Cassian, I know you’re in there!”

Fuck. 

Before he could think of a reasonable defense, Jyn got impatient and he heard the door slide open. Dammit, the Rebellion needed better security systems. 

She walked in like she lived there and looked around. “Cassian, it’s already 1058, Kes needs you to–” She saw him slumped in the ’fresher doorway and smirked. “I’ll tell him you’re indisposed.”

He glared. “You’re one to talk.” A pair of snow shades used by day patrols was perched on her nose, and she had yet to take them off in his room. 

She scowled and took a swig out of her canteen. 

“Is that water?” Fuck, he was so thirsty.

Jyn snorted. “’Course not.” She stepped forward and held it out to him. “Care for some hair of the wookiee?”

More than a bit suspicious, he leaned over to get a whiff its contents.  _Mistake_. He jerked backwards and gagged again into the toilet. “Karking hells what  _is_  that?”

“A bloody Mandalorian,” she said. “Made with the cheapest Shesharrillian vodka and minus everything else but the tomato juice. There’s a war going on, you know.”

“Hilarious.” He spat inelegantly into the toilet for good measure and pulled himself to standing. “You can tell Kes he has to figure it out on his own this time. Or find someone else good at hyperspace calculations.” He collapsed again on his bed. “I’m going to sleep now for the next twelve standard hours.” Flashes from the night before were coming back to him and it was getting hard to even approximate eye contact with Jyn. Maybe if he was lucky, she wouldn’t remember anything either. 

“You don’t want to talk about last night?”

Fuck, he was never lucky.  “Talk about what?” he mumbled half into his pillow.

“ _You know_.”

He was too tired for this. He could barely think in a straight line, let alone in the circles she seemed prepared to talk around. “Fine.” He needed to sleep. He needed her to leave. And nothing would scare her away faster than the truth. “Yes, I kissed Valery last night. No, I didn’t leave with her. No, I won’t do it again.”

“Really?” Jyn sounded surprised and he almost laughed. It felt so obvious he thought she _must_ see it, written all over his face every time he looked at her. 

“No, I wont. Want to know why?” He pressed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see her leave. “I can’t kiss strangers and pretend they’re you, okay?”

There was a loud clang and he winced. He cracked one eye open to see Jyn picking up her canteen, bloody Mandalorian spilled all over his floor. 

He grunted and closed the eye. “Happy now?”  _Leave. Please leave. Please don’t drag this out for me_. 

Jyn huffed. “Yeah. I’m going.”

_Finally_.

“Just one more thing.”

_Really?_  He opened his eyes one more time. “What?”

“We should have dinner some time. Just the two of us. Take mess hall trays to some empty briefing room or something. Then…” She shrugged. “You can kiss a not-stranger and we won’t have to pretend. Sound good?”

He could only watch her, stunned, as she turned on her heel and left, holding her empty canteen and leaving her drink spilled all over his floor. 

“Sounds… good.” It took him so long to say the door shut behind her before he said, ‘good.’ 

He rolled onto his back and tried to assure himself as he drifted back to sleep that it wasn't all a dream. 

Just before he sank into unconsciousness, he registered that she said, ‘we.’ 

_We won’t have to pretend_.

But he fell asleep before he could fully appreciate what that meant.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/174426917735/if-it-inspires-could-you-do-i-cant-keep-kissing)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading/comments/kudos! Come say hi on my tumblr for more prompts and rebelcaptain-y things (with a side of cat pictures): [cats-and-metersticks](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Update: author's commentary on this fic can be found [here](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/175393827880/3-4-13-for-tauntauns-heart-confessional)


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